


Cast Aside These Broken Hearts

by serenelystrange



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, because I'm a sucker for these two getting their happy ever afters, but mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 20:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13151736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenelystrange/pseuds/serenelystrange
Summary: In which Stiles and Derek face their greatest foes yet: miscommunication and a crippling lack of self esteem! But hey, they work it all out in the end!





	Cast Aside These Broken Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it, daddy--oreo!

“It’s just a sprained ankle, buddy,” Stiles says, trying to pull his foot away but having no luck.

“I’m not your buddy,” Derek says, looking up from where he’s carefully wrapping Stiles’ ankle in a bandage to glare at him.

“Of course not,” Stiles says, sighing in what sounds like defeat.

It’s strange, Derek thinks, how shutting Stiles up just doesn’t fill him with the same glee that it used to.

“I didn’t…” Derek tries, “I mean, that’s not..”

“Whatever,” Stiles says, taking Derek’s stuttering as a chance to break away and stand up, ignoring the pain shooting through his ankle at the pressure. “I’ll get out of your way. See you next time something tries to kill us, I guess.”

He’s halfway to the door before Derek tries to stop him.

“Stiles,” he says, “I… you can’t drive like that. Let me bring you home at least.”

“I don’t drive with my left foot,” Stiles says, and then he’s gone, clicking the door shut softly behind him.

It somehow makes Derek cringe more than if he’d just slammed it.

“What the hell was that?” he asks the empty room. The room, thankfully, doesn’t answer.

.

“Why is it always you?” Derek groans as he dodges another honest-to-god fireball, pulling Stiles down to the ground with him before he can get barbecued.

“Because the universe is fucking cruel,” Stiles replies, still trying to catch his breath from running. “Obviously.”

Derek finds himself unexpectedly smarting at the comment. Stiles is always sarcastic and quick-witted, but the extra bitterness Derek hears in his voice recently is new. And unwelcome.

“Just stay down,” he says roughly, shoving Stiles behind what’s left of a warehouse wall.

“Hell no,” Stiles says, pulling himself up to crouch next to Derek again. “You want me to hide while everyone else gets charbroiled? You’re nuts!”

“We’ll heal,” Derek says, “just stay out of the way and we’ll take care of it.”

“Hey!” Stiles exclaims, “I’ve saved your furry asses more times than I can count! Don’t tell me to just roll over and play dead!”

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, eyes burning red in full force for a moment until he can get it under control.

Stiles, while resolutely refusing to show any fear, has gone silent.

“Just…please,” Derek says. Begs, really. “Just stay safe for once, ok?”

Stiles considers him for a long _long_ moment, before finally nodding tightly.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll sit this one out. But if you or any of my friends get fried, I’m resurrecting you just so I can kill you again! You got it?”

Before Derek can reply, a fireball flies past him, and he turns to face their opponents, roaring in anger at full volume.

He can’t be sure, but it definitely sounds like Stiles is laughing in delight behind him. But he’ll worry about that when all these freaking firestarters are taken care of.

.

.

“What I don’t get,” Stiles says, tossing the basketball over to Scott without even trying for the net, “is why he still hates me so much. I mean, it’s been like 6 years. And now I can’t even spend summer break back home without the ‘grr, arg’ act!”

“Pretty sure that’s vampires, dude,” Scott says, tossing the ball back to Stiles, who catches it with a huff.

“Why are we even doing this?” Stiles asks. “Neither of us play basketball.”

“It was your idea,” Scott says, shrugging.

“I think I needed to be doing something manly while I had this embarrassing conversation,” Stiles says, clutching the basketball to his chest tightly.

“It’s not embarrassing,” Scott says, “you’re allowed to talk about your feelings. Even if you don’t know what they are yet.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles whines, “you take a year of 101’s and think you’re Dr. Phil!”

Scott scoffs. “Dr. Phil is a hack!”

“True,” Stiles allows.

“And Derek doesn’t hate you,” Scott adds, belatedly. “I think that might be the problem.”

“What does that even mean?” Stiles asks, exasperated. “He’s always brushing me off, or telling me to stay out the way, or questioning all my plans, like I’m not training with Deaton on top of literally going to school for law enforcement!”

Scott decides to switch tactics to try and get through.

“How long have you wanted to be a cop?” Scott asks.

“My whole life,” Stiles says. “Except for that summer I wanted to be a rock star.”

“We were awful,” Scott laughs. “And how long have we known each other?”

“Forever, dude,” Stiles says. “I don’t know, like 15 years or so?”

“Right,” Scott says. “And how long has it been since I got bitten?”

“Six years,” Stiles says. That one, he knows he’ll never forget.

“And how long have you been in love with Derek?” Scott asks.

“Five years,” Stiles says immediately, and then cringes with what Scott can only assume is his brain re-booting.

“So you see the problem now?” Scott asks, gently.

Stiles just nods slowly and hands the ball over to Scott, who has gotten much closer than he was a moment before.

“I think I do,” he says. “I need to go…like right now, I need to go and find Derek.”

“Yeah you do!” Scott says, clapping Stiles on the shoulder. “Go get him!”

Stiles laughs and shakes his head.

“I need to go apologize to him,” he says. “I must have been making him so uncomfortable with my feelings or chemo-signals or whatever other stuff werewolf-y noses pick up on!”

“I don’t think you need to do that,” Scott tries, but Stiles is already jogging off towards the Jeep and waving goodbye.

.

.

“So,” Stiles says as Derek opens the door. “We should talk.”

Derek looks at him warily, but moves aside to allow Stiles in anyway, closing and locking the door behind him. The new apartment is nicer and warmer looking than the loft, but he still doesn’t ever feel completely at ease.

Stiles kicks off his shoes and settles down on one side of the couch, folding his legs under him and leaning his back against the couch arm. After a pointed stare at both Derek and the other side of the couch, Derek rolls his eyes and goes to sit down, mirroring Stiles’ pose just to annoy him.

“I wanted to apologize,” Stiles says once he’s seated. And well. That was definitely not what Derek was expecting.

“For what?” Derek asks, smirking. “If it’s about the time you dropped my favorite mug and tried to convince me a rogue pigeon took it out… don’t bother. Nobody believed that.”

“I’m being serious here,” Stiles says, frowning. “And I am sorry about the mug. But that’s not what this is about.”

“Then what?” Derek asks, giving Stiles his full attention.

“I need to apologize for my like…everything,” Stiles says, waving a hand around as if to encompass his entire being. “I didn’t realize I was even doing it until it was too late, but I’ll try to stop from now on. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable anymore.”

“What are you even talking about?” Derek asks, bewildered and more than a little concerned at the tone of Stiles’ voice.

“The feelings!” Stiles bursts out. “The romantic-y type feelings! That are not reciprocated. Like, at all. I just… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh,” Derek says, suddenly subdued. “Those feelings.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, wiping angrily at his eyes with the back of his hands and avoiding Derek’s stare.

“Maybe we should just not hang around each other for a while,” Stiles says, quietly.

Derek flinches back at that, but pulls himself together before his face can show just how much he hates that idea.

“If that’s what you think is best,” he says.

“I guess I do,” Stiles says, standing up and heading for the door.

Before he can get past Derek though, he finds himself stopped by Derek’s fingers around his wrist.

“Wait,” Derek says. “Please. Just, don’t run off.”

“I really don’t want to stay and humiliate myself further,” Stiles says, moving to wrench his arm away, but Derek’s grip stays tight.

“Is it really that humiliating?” Derek asks, looking oddly hurt. “I mean, I know you don’t feel the same way I do. But is it so awful that you think you need to run away?”

“I don’t want to put any pressure on you!” Stiles says, “not even subconsciously. You deserve way better than some scrawny asshole shoving his hormones in your face all the time!”

“What?” Derek asks, suddenly feeling like he’s completely lost the plot.

He drops his grip from Stiles’ wrist, and watches as it goes slack and falls to Stile’s side.

Stiles sighs deeply before squaring his shoulders and finally looking Derek in the face again.

“I’m fucking crazy about you, man,” he says, pausing to steel himself and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Derek, however, is just looking up at him like is entire life has been a lie.

“You’re crazy about me?” he asks, incredulously. “Since when?”

“About twenty minutes ago,” Stiles replies. “Give or take about five years.”

“What.” Derek’s so shocked that he can’t even make it into a real question.

“I’m a little slow on the uptake sometimes, shut up,” Stiles says, crossing his arms against his chest defensively.

Suddenly, Derek is laughing. Full on, body-shaking, gasping-for-air laughing, head buried in his hands on his lap.

Stiles really isn’t sure what to do in this situation. He’s prepared for if Derek gets angry(retreating,) or if he gets mean(wolfsbane and then retreating), but no protocol for Derek melting down with laughter.

“I don’t know what’s happening here,” he says as Derek’s laughter starts to die down, “but I’m gonna go now. Thanks for not mauling me and all that.”

“No!” Derek says, standing up so suddenly that Stiles gets a little dizzy.

And then Derek is right there in front of him, green eyes shining from the tears of laughter, smiling at Stiles like he knows something that he does not.

Which, considering the way the day is going, Stiles imagines is entirely possible.

.

“I thought you were apologizing for not feeling the same way I do,” Derek says, finally, reaching out to rest one big hand against Stiles’ neck, cupping his jaw.

“I..I was,” Stiles says, shivering at the touch against his valiant attempt not to.

“Then you obviously have no idea how I feel about you,” Derek says, smiling in that way that always makes Stiles knees feel like jello.

“How do you feel about me?” Stiles asks, voice hoarse, “because I was under the impression that it was somewhere between hatred and reluctant ally most days.”

“I’m fucking crazy about you, too,” Derek says, and then he’s leaning in and all Stiles can do is meet him halfway for an incredibly sweet kiss.

.

“Hey,” Stiles says later, when the Netflix screen asks them if they’re still watching the show they haven’t seen a minute of.

“Yeah?” Derek asks, running his thumb under Stiles’ kiss-swollen lips and staring up at him with lust-hazed eyes.

Stiles grins, completely forgetting whatever he was about to say.

“Never mind,” he says instead, moving down to kiss Derek again. “This is way more important.”

Suffice to say, Derek agrees.

.

.

 


End file.
